


Keeping Up Appearances

by Ariel_Tempest



Series: A Long Time Coming [6]
Category: Downton Abbey
Genre: Adoption, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst, Classism, Family Feud - Freeform, Gen, Lindsey McClintock, Original Character(s), Post-Series, Sequel, Tea, Tension, Villains
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-01
Updated: 2019-11-01
Packaged: 2021-01-16 04:21:47
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,469
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21264986
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ariel_Tempest/pseuds/Ariel_Tempest
Summary: Sometimes your worst enemies are connected to you by blood. Phyllis and Lindsey can confirm this.





	Keeping Up Appearances

**Author's Note:**

> Many thanks to Hinny_B for betaing

Phyllis looked at the place settings on the table, shifted one of the plates slightly to the right, then shifted it back. While she could easily tell the balance of her Ladyship’s rouge or if the coif of her hair was off center, plates were not her specialty and she wished she’d had Joseph, with his trained footman’s eye, do the settings before he and Lindsay had left. She hadn’t wanted anything to look out of the ordinary, though, nothing that would make Lindsay ask questions, so the table had sat bare until she made it home from work. 

She felt bad, hiding things from the boy she was increasingly thinking of as her son, for all he still called her ‘cousin Phyllis’ as was proper. She felt bad, but she also felt the need to protect him. She hoped that the current danger would pass before school ended for the day and the men in her life returned home. Assuming, of course, there was a danger. That in and of itself was an assumption based on very little except old memories and the twisting feeling she got in her gut every time she tried coaxing Lindsay into talking about his past. She dearly hoped that she was wrong and that the threat of impending unpleasantness was all in her head, but she wasn’t going to risk it.

A shadow fell across the room and, as she looked up at the shapely figure standing in the doorway, she saw no reason to regret her decisions. “Cousin Mabel,” she smiled, as genuinely as she was able. She glanced at the clock. “Right on time, as always. Welcome.”

“Punctuality is a virtue,” she was informed as the other woman stepped across the threshold, her eyes roving around the cottage. When they had been younger Mabel had been one of the prettiest girls in the family, second only to her sister Lettie. At least that’s what all of the adults said. Phyllis hadn’t questioned. Many years later, now Mabel Archer rather than Mabel McClintock, her face still had the pleasing angles of youth, and if her light brown hair had any grey in it, it was well hidden by her neat coif and hat. Her eyes were sharp and steel blue and she generally looked very little like Phyllis or Lindsey. Her dress was nicer than anything Phyllis had ever owned and she viewed her surroundings with a look of cold distance, her lips refusing to mimic Phyllis’s smile. She had raised herself above her cousin’s level, and she was going to make good and certain the entire world knew it. 

“Yes, it is,” Phyllis agreed, lowering her eyes to the table, just so she’d have something to look at other than the older woman’s obvious disapproval. “Won’t you please have a seat?” She gestured to the table, to the place settings that she was now terrified were a little bit off, to the plate of fresh biscuits that she’d purchased from the bakery, and tried to marshal her thoughts. This was her cousin. Alright, so she was a cousin who had never been in service or in prison, instead marrying a banker and moving up to a comfortable middle class existence. That didn’t give her the right to come into Phyllis’s home and look down on her. “I’ll get the tea.”

Without a word, Mabel sat.

Phyllis let silence fill the room as she fetched the kettle and poured the tea. She offered her guest cream and sugar and then, out of ways to procrastinate, took her own seat and offered an opening conversational gambit. “I was surprised to hear from you,” she confessed. Surprised and dismayed, although she didn’t say that last part out loud. “It’s been a long time. How are James and little Ellen doing?”

The pleasantries earned her a sharp look over the rim of her cousin’s tea cup. “They are well. James is up for a promotion this year. He should be bank manager before too long. Ellen starts grammar school this coming term. I have high expectations of her, given that she’s always had top marks in the past.” She set her cup down and arched an eyebrow. “I’m surprised to find you know anything of my family. As you said, it’s been a long time since we’ve spoken.”

While she hadn’t hoped the visit would be pleasant, this particular criticism was uncalled for. Phyllis pressed her lips into a thin line and only just managed to keep from glaring. “It’s not been that long,” she reprimanded, albeit gently, the way she did when she thought Thomas and Joseph were being unfair to one another. “You were married before the war, and Ellen was born during it. Besides,” she took a sip of tea to steady herself, “I still hear from Gertie, from time to time, and Sid, and, of course, Lindsey’s told me a little bit.”

Mabel sniffed, a pointed noise, and examined the pattern on her tea cup. It was undoubtedly not as fine a set as she owned, having been a wedding gift from the Downton staff. They’d all pitched in for it. “I’d think that Sidney in particular would have better things to do with his time than exchange family gossip, seeing as he’s apparently too busy to do his duty to his late cousin.”

That was so blatantly unfair to Bertha’s brother that Phyllis had to set her tea cup down least the trembling of her hand cause her to spill. “I assume you’re referring to his refusal to take in Lindsey.”

“What else would I be referring to?” the other woman asked, arching an eyebrow. “Really, I’d not had much hope that Bertha would be able to make something of the boy. She can barely manage her own brood, but Sidney? He only has two. You’d think he’d be able to manage one more rather than passing the boy off to you, of all people.”

“He’s had a bit of bad luck is all,” Phyllis bit back. “At least I had a letter from him a week after Lindsey’s arrival, making certain all was well and offering what limited assistance he could provide, if necessary. Not,” she added quickly, before Mabel could cut in, “That it’s been necessary. Joseph makes a very good living as a teacher, and Lady Grantham is quite a generous employer.”

“You’re really a lady’s maid again, then?” Mabel’s eyes narrowed, all suspicion. “Even after what you’ve done?”

Phyllis notched her chin upward. “I really am. You can ask at the house yourself, if you like.” The thought of Mabel questioning her position with any of the staff, but particularly Thomas or Mrs. Hughes, fortified her. The small, petty part of her that she buried as deeply as she could and tried to ignore even liked the idea.

“I have to wonder at a lady who would accept someone like you in her house. She can’t know what you are.”

“She does,” Phyllis replied, returning to her tea, calm once more. This was one place where the other woman’s barbs could do little harm. While not proud of her past, never proud of it, Phyllis had made her peace with it years ago. “She knows everything.”

“And your husband? Does he know?”

The other woman’s prying nastiness made Phyllis almost grateful for Thomas’s anger and backstabbing when she’d first come to Downton and her past had been revealed. It hadn’t been pleasant, of course, but it assured that she had nothing to hide. That gave her strength, as did the memory of Joseph smiling at her as he placed a ring on her finger. That thought warmed her so much that she smiled, glancing down at the slim metal band, as she replied, “I would never keep a secret like that from him. He knows who I’ve been and loves me anyway. I am a different person than I was, Mabel. A better person. Joseph knows that. Her Ladyship knows it, too.”

“Well, I’ve always suspected Yorkshire of being a backwards place. You’ve certainly confirmed that.” Mabel set her tea cup down. “I shudder to think what their schooling must be like.”

“It’s perfectly acceptable,” Phyllis countered.

The other woman gave her a look that was just short of an eye roll. “You said your husband is a teacher. Of course you’d speak well of it.”

Refusing to back down or be cowed, Phyllis replied, “Lindsey’s doing well. He’s head of the class in mathematics.”

“Not a surprise with your husband teaching him.”

“Joseph teaches history and English.” In an attempt to take the offensive, Phyllis asked, “What is Ellen’s best class?”

For a moment, it seemed to work. “English,” Mabel replied. “Although, as I said earlier, she excels at all subjects, which brings me to the point of this visit.” She met Phyllis’s eye. “I will not beat about the bush any longer. I don’t approve of Bertha’s choice to hand my nephew over to you and this husband of yours. Your employer might be willing to over look your sordid reputation, but I will not have you sullying the family name any further than you already have.”

“Your name is Archer, not Baxter and certainly not Molesley,” Phyllis replied, setting her own cup down carefully and folding her hands in her lap. There she could clench her fists until the knuckles were white without her cousin seeing. “There is no reason for anyone to make the connection. Even if they did, I am respected here. No one would think less of you for the relation.” 

“That would be very comforting if I lived in Yorkshire,” Mabel snapped. She said the name of the county as if she were a school teacher naming a subject that was barely appropriate to acknowledge, let alone teach about, and she was warning a student off of it. “The people of Bletchley, on the other hand, have standards and as a prominent member of the society, it is my job to uphold them.”

Phyllis privately thought that if Mabel was an example of the standards in Bletchley, she needed to be certain never to visit. Of course, she also doubted that the Archers were half so influential as her cousin liked to think. After all, banking was still trade. “I still don’t see how anyone should find out, seeing as Buckinghamshire is on the other side of the country. And I’m certainly not going to advertise the connection.” As soon as she’d said it she felt a stab of guilt for being nasty, but she didn’t apologize.

Mabel’s eyes narrowed and her lip threatened to curl up at the corner. She clearly had not missed the slight. “The boy will be going to live with cousin Reginald, in Dorset. They have good schools there, far better than here, I’m certain, and the boy will be looked after in a proper manner.”

“Reginald refused to take him,” Phyllis protested around her outrage and indignation. “Gertie told me in one of her letters.”

“Don’t worry about that. I’ve written and explained the situation to him. He is more than ready, at this point, to welcome Lindsey into his home.” Pushing her tea cup aside, Mabel stood, readying herself to go.

It was hard for Phyllis to draw a breath. Her hands shook and her nails bit into her palms. “How dare you.”

Mabel paused, looking at the other woman in astonishment. “I beg your pardon?” 

“How dare you,” Phyllis repeated, more loudly this time. She rose from her own chair with enough force that she almost knocked it over. She was afraid that she was going to scream or cry or maybe throw her tea cup at the other woman’s head. Instead she forced all of her pain and an emotion she dimly registered as hate into her voice. “How dare you come into my home and insult me and threaten me like this. If you wanted Lindsey raised your way, you had your chance. You didn’t want him. He’s been here four months. Bertha, Sidney, Gertrude, they all wrote within the first month and a half to make certain he was well and offer assistance if they could. Gertrude’s even mentioned trying to come out here for Christmas, if they can afford it, which I doubt very much but is a nice sentiment. We’ve not had a word from you until last week, and Reggie can’t even pull his nose from his books to do that much. And yet you insist that Reggie, who I might point out isn’t married and will have to take care of the boy entirely on his own, which I believe was your objection to Harry’s doctor friend taking him, is better suited to raising Lindsey than Joseph and I? You’ve not even met my husband. You know nothing about him.” She forced her lips into as thin a line as she could manage and gave the other woman a glare that would make Mrs. Hughes proud. “I’m not giving up my son. You can’t make me.”

“Your son?” Mabel turned, squaring her shoulders, and gave Phyllis a dismissive look. “You’ve adopted him then, have you? A working woman with a working husband?” Her lip really did curl this time, as nasty a sneer as ever graced an aristocrat’s face. “You may have taken him in, but you’re only a cousin, once removed. I’m his Aunt. Any lawyer worth his salt will side with me over a loosely related thief.”

“You wouldn’t.” Anger started to spiral into panic. Even with Joseph’s teacher’s salary, the two of them could not hope to hire as good a lawyer as the Archers could, especially if James was awarded the promotion Mabel had mentioned earlier. 

Before the other woman could reply, there was the crunching of footsteps outside and a pair of shadows fell across the doorway, warning Phyllis that school was indeed out and they were about to have company. She wanted to scream, to run outside and tell Joseph to take Lindsey to the library or the pub or even in to York, anywhere except here, but she was too slow. Joseph rounded the corner first, coming to a stop in the doorway when he realized Phyllis still had company. (She’d told him about the upcoming visit, of course, along with her misgivings. He’d assured her that whatever Mabel wanted to talk about, everything would be perfectly alright.) He blinked. “Oh, hello there.”

Clearly curious who might be inside, Lindsey came around the corner, school books in his arms. The second he saw his Aunt, he froze like a frightened rabbit. His back straightened and his face immediately lost its curiosity, transforming into a blank mask. “Aunt Mabel.”

Mabel turned. Ignoring Joseph completely, she addressed Lindsey. “Is that the proper way to greet someone?”

Dark eyes dropped immediately to the floor. “Good afternoon, Aunt Mabel,” he intoned, all duty, like a child reciting in front of the class. “How are you today?”

“Better,” Mabel nodded before answering the question. “I am well.” She turned her attention to her cousin’s flabbergasted husband. “I assume you must be Joseph Molesley?”

“I am,” Joseph replied, his tone indignant. “And I must ask what exactly you think you’re about, coming into our home and ordering people around? Aunt or not, it isn’t right.”

“I put a lot of effort into teaching the boy proper manners,” Mabel replied, meeting his indignation with curtness, “And while I may have acknowledged that he’s a lost cause, at least as far as a real upbringing is concerned, I find it most concerning that they’ve been allowed to lapse.” She eyed him critically, seeming to find fault in the spot of chalk dust that had escaped notice on his shoulder, or possibly his hair line, who could tell? “It reinforces my determination that the boy should be sent elsewhere.”

“Elsewhere?” Joseph scoffed. “What, and you think we’re just going to let you walk in and carry him off, then?”

Hearing her husband echo her own sentiments helped calm the fluttering in Phyllis’s heart, somewhat. Lindsey had gone paler than normal and stared at his Aunt, his eyes occasionally skittering in Phyllis’s direction, but never quite making it to her face. Taking a deep breath, she held out a hand to him. “Lindsey,” she called, with as much calm as she could muster. “Come here.” He slid obediently over to her and clung to her hand. 

“As I was just telling Phyllis,” Mabel replied, blatantly ignoring the boy she professed to be so worried about, “I don’t plan on giving you a choice. You will hear from my husband’s solicitor soon.” Turning far enough to give one last, hard nod to her cousin and nephew, Mabel swept out of the cottage.

Joseph watched her go with his jaw agape, then turned back to Phyllis and Lindsey. “Well I like that! Who does she think she is?”

“The queen, apparently,” Phyllis grimaced. “She seems to have Buckinghamshire and Buckingham Palace confused.”

“She must if she thinks this is going to work.” Shaking his head, Joseph continued into the cottage and started putting his things away. “I know you’d warned me she might start try to start trouble, but I never expected anything like this.”

“Me either.” She looked down at Lindsey, who was still squeezing her hand tightly enough she thought she might lose feeling. “The question now is how do we stop her?”

Joseph stopped what he was doing and blinked at her. “You don’t really think she was serious, do you?”

Phyllis nodded. “Mabel is very proud of having made a better match than the rest of us,” she explained. “She’s always cared more about her reputation than she has the rest of the family. It’s not made her very popular, admittedly, but I’ve no doubt she’d do anything short of commit an actual crime to protect it.”

“Uncle James is a banker,” Lindsey echoed her own, private worries. Even in the quiet cottage, his voice was almost inaudible. “He can hire as good a solicitor as he likes.” Phyllis felt him tremble and pulled him against her, wrapping an arm around his shoulder, as if she could keep him with them just by holding him.

“Well he can’t hire as good a lawyer as Lord and Lady Grantham,” Joseph replied, leaving his things and coming over to stand next to them. He looked down at his adopted son, his voice taking on the brisk snap it always did when he meant business. “Even if he owns the bank!” He looked back up at Phyllis. “When you go up to the house tonight, you tell her Ladyship what’s going on. She’ll have his Lordship on the phone to Mr. Murray first thing tomorrow, mark my words, and then we’ll see who’ll be acting high and mighty.”

The ember of hope Phyllis had been struggling to keep alive flared inside of her. “You think so? You really think she’d do that?”

“I know so.”

“But why?” Lindsey looked from one to the other of them. It was obvious he wanted to believe, but he couldn’t quite manage. “Her Ladyship’s barely met me.”

“Doesn’t matter,” Joseph assured him with that easy confidence that Phyllis always envied. She could always tell when he was completely convinced he was right. “Lord and Lady Grantham look after their own. Why, back at the end of the war, Mr. Bates was arrested for murder. The courts found him guilty, sentenced him to death, all of it, but the lawyers got that changed to a life sentence and then kept going until he was proven innocent.”

“Really?” Lindsey looked shyly up at Phyllis for confirmation. 

Much as Phyllis wanted to add to her husband’s assurances, she honestly couldn’t. “I wasn’t here yet,” she added, truthfully. “Although the Bateses have certainly had their share of trouble with the law, and I’ve been here for some of it. I can confirm that the family didn’t take it lightly.”

A lopsided grin spread across Joseph’s face. “You were there when Mrs. Patmore was opening her bed and breakfast too. Remember the kerfuffle around that?”

“That didn’t exactly involve lawyers!” his wife replied. Despite the stress of the afternoon, or perhaps because of it, she was unable to keep herself from laughing, at least a little, at the memory.

“Well, no,” Joseph allowed. “But the family did step in personally to take care of it. And they’ll do the same here, just you wait and see.” He gave Lindsey a reassuring grin. Then he looked at the table and nodded to the untouched plate of biscuits. “Now, why don’t we put our things away and have a bite to eat, hm? Those biscuits won’t eat themselves.”

**Author's Note:**

> Legal adoption practices would be brand new at this time, and from what I can tell not geared toward the working class. Up until then children were simply taken in and if someone showed up saying 'No, actually, that one's mine' there wasn't much you could do about it (see Edith and the Drews). Thus, even if the Molsleys could adopt Lindsey formally, they'd not have thought of it, and Mabel's threat would seem pretty solid.
> 
> Of course, Mabel's not met Cora.
> 
> (I will say outright that I'm not good at writing legal stuff, so if you really want to see a drawn out, slap down court battle come out of this, I'm afraid you're going to have to imagine it yourself.)
> 
> Also of possible interest, my mental image of Mabel is very similar to Billie Whitelaw as Mrs. Medlock in the 1987 Secret Garden


End file.
